Filthy and soot-stained as he was, the little sweep
flung himself into the arms of the beautiful lady with a cry of
"Mother!" Mrs. Montagu had found her lost son.
In gratitude for the recovery of her son, Mrs. Montagu entertained
every climbing-boy in London at dinner on the anniversary of her
son's return, and arranged that they should all have a holiday on
that day. At her death she left a legacy to continue the treat.
Such, at least, is the story as I have always heard it.
At the Sweeps' Carnival, there was always a grown-up man figuring
as "Jack-in-the-green." Encased in an immense frame of wicker-work
covered with laurels and artificial flowers, from the midst of
which his face and arms protruded with a comical effect, "Jack-in-
the-green" capered slowly about in the midst of the street,
surrounded by some twenty little climbing-boys, who danced
joyously round him with black faces, their soot-stained clothes
decorated with tags of bright ribbon, and making a deafening
clamour with their dustpans and brushes as they sang some popular
ditty.
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